


A Roll in the Hay

by itsmylifekay, WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Series: I'll love you in the cornfields, I'll love you in the hay; I'll love you back in Brooklyn where my heart still loves to stay [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Skinny Steve, the long awaited suspender sex is nigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s something that’s been forming since Brooklyn, something that’s been niggling in the back of his mind since even before that. It’s taken him a long time to finally pull it all together but he feels confident that he’s got everything right. That it’ll all go off without a hitch.</p>
<p>And it all comes down to one thing: Bucky’s fascination with Steve in suspenders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Roll in the Hay

**Author's Note:**

> we've hinted at it, and now we've finally delivered. hope it's worth the wait!

\---+---

There’s a brisk wind ruffling Steve’s hair as he makes his way down the street, scuffed brown boots crunching over the carpet of fallen leaves. It’s always gorgeous in Pikesville this time of year, when the trees turn to fiery oranges and deep reds, golden yellows and stately bronze-browns. Steve takes the time to look around as he walks, regarding everything with a kind of purposeful interest as he attempts to keep his heart rate down and the mischievous smirk from his lips.

Because he’s not just out for a stroll. No. He’s on a _mission._

It’s something that’s been forming since Brooklyn, something that’s been niggling in the back of his mind since even before that. It’s taken him a long time to finally pull it all together but he feels confident that he’s got everything right. That it’ll all go off without a hitch.

And it all comes down to one thing: Bucky’s fascination with Steve in suspenders.

Something that had started out innocently enough but had quickly grown into something more, a kind of hungry obsession that took the form of Bucky’s hands sliding over the straps whenever he got the chance, his fingers gliding beneath them and pulling back, snapping them against Steve’s chest. The way his eyes would trail and linger whenever Steve got dressed. But he had never taken that final step, never asked or even pushed for Steve to involve that particular part of their lives in the bedroom. (Steve had a hunch that Bucky figured he was too vanilla for that, despite their rather - _exuberant-_ honeymoon period to the contrary.)

But Steve does have to admit that this has a whole new level to it, something that’s sitting hot in his chest and dripping down the back of his neck in an anticipatory sweat. And he can’t _wait_ to see Bucky’s face. It’s going to be priceless.

He’s making the final turn now, feet moving into grass and up the hill leading to the barn, the same place he and Bucky had finally got their shit together all those years ago. And now, Bucky’s just on the other side of those doors.

Steve does a quick check to make sure nothing’s shifted in travel, runs thumbs under his suspenders so they’re perfectly straight and aligned, combs fingers through his hair so it’s not hanging quite so shaggily in his eyes. And then he’s ready, straightening his back and pushing open the barn door to step into its darkened interior.

Bucky’s inspecting a window on the East wall, to the left of where Steve’s standing, and completely unaware of Steve’s presence just a few yards away. And that’s just not going to cut it.

“Buck?” Steve calls, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Bucky tenses a little, nearly dropping his hammer before turning to lock eyes with the intruder. “Jesus…” he breathes out, not doing a very good job at pretending like he wasn’t caught off guard. “What is it, Steve?”

Steve smiles and shuts the door behind him. “Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just thought I’d come see how you’re doing.” He takes a few more steps into the barn, eyes flicking to the window. “How’s it coming?”

Bucky regards the window with a very unimpressed scowl. “Dunno why I’m even here. The window’s fine. Not a thing wrong with it.”

“Really?” Steve asks, trying to keep his face schooled into a curious expression, even as he takes another step in Bucky’s direction.

To prove his point, Bucky stuffs the hammer’s handle into the back pocket of his jeans and leans forward, opening and closing the window with ease. It doesn’t even creak. “S’fucking fine. I dunno what the hell this guy is talking about.”

“Hmmm,” Steve hums, taking that last step forward so he’s right up in Bucky’s space, close to his chest. “So you’re done then? Nothing else you’re supposed to fix?”

Bucky blinks down at him, surprised by the sudden closeness. “Uh...yeah. Yeah, I should be good here.”

“Perfect,” Steve mumbles. He slips one hand behind Bucky’s neck to thread his fingers through the short hair there, then pulls his head down so their lips are barely an inch apart. “Because I’ve been missing you, Buck. Been too busy lately, you know?”

Bucky swallows, eyes glancing down at Steve’s unfairly close lips. Where the hell did this come from? “Gotta put food on the table,” he mutters, voice pitched low, “Gotta take care of you.”

Steve just smirks, thinks about all the ways that statement is about to change. Of how _he’s_ going to be taking care of Bucky for a once. “But you haven’t been taking care of me have you?” Steve asks instead, pushing up against one of Bucky’s thighs so he can feel how Steve’s already hard in his pants. “Because I’ve been needing this for awhile.”

Bucky subconsciously leans into the touch, presses against Steve while still trying to keep his head on straight. Because yes, this is hot. But Jesus Christ... “Can’t take care of you in a fucking _barn_ , Stevie…”

“Says who?” Steve shoots back. Then, just because he knows Bucky’s resolve is weak (and because come hell or high water he’s going to get his way), Steve closes the distance between their mouths and grinds his hips into Bucky’s thigh. And no matter what Bucky was saying before, he doesn’t waste much time in parting his lips to let Steve’s tongue inside, falling into the kiss just like Steve knew he would.

There are, however, large hands coming up to grab his hips. It’s an obvious and futile attempt at control which Steve merely rolls his eyes at, somewhat surprised that Bucky is even trying to stall in the first place but willing to work with it.

“Thought you like loving on me in public, Buck?” Steve whispers. “Thought you like people knowing I’m yours?”

A whine falls from Bucky’s mouth. Because that’s not fair. Of course Bucky wants everyone to know that he’s totally banging Steve, but...they’re in some guy’s barn. And as intriguing and fucking hot as Steve rocking up against his thigh is, there’s still that voice in the back of Bucky’s conscience that won’t shut the fuck up.

He grumbles between kisses, lips still moving against Steve’s and eyes still closed, “ _Steve_ …”

And _yes,_ Steve internally celebrates. Because he knows this is his chance, his opportunity to give Bucky a glimpse of just what he’s in for this fine fall afternoon.

“Yeah?” Steve asks teasingly. “Something you want, Buck?” And then he leans back, putting just enough space between them so that Bucky can clearly see the redness of his lips and the way his hips look framed between Bucky’s hands, how his suspenders frame his skinny chest…

And _fuck_. How is Bucky supposed to control himself around that? How can he be expected to behave with Steve standing there, the challenge so obvious in the way he stares up at him like he knows every single filthy thought that’s running through Bucky’s mind? How can he resist that?

He can’t.

Bucky presses forward, craving that contact again and saying to hell with his good conscience. They may be in a fucking barn but that’s not going to stop the way he grabs Steve, fingers immediately looping around those suspenders so he can drag Steve’s body tightly up against his and slot his lips over Steve’s again.  

And Steve lets himself be pulled forward, curves himself into every inch of Bucky he possibly can and opens his mouth to the tongue Bucky glides across his lower lip. He has to force himself not to get swept away in the mantra of _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky_ that’s slowly heating up beneath his skin. Keeps himself grounded with thoughts of what’s to come, how happy Bucky’s going to be. He can’t get trapped in the now, not yet, not when there’s so much more that still needs to happen.

“Bucky,” he finally gasps, finding time to speak when they both break for air. “Bucky, c’mon.” He rocks his hips against Bucky’s thigh with a pointed thrust. “Been waiting long enough.”

And yeah, Bucky agrees--doesn’t even know how much time has passed, but knows that it’s way too much for how quickly the heat is rising in his face, how obviously needy and grabby he’s probably being but too turned on to care about, how ridiculously hard he already is just from feeling Steve rut against him like that. Yeah. Way too long.

He reaches out, fingers fumbling not so elegantly with the tiny white buttons on Steve’s shirt. He’s almost got one undone when Steve is fussing, batting his hands away like Bucky is more of a nuisance than anything.

Because Steve knows if he lets Bucky carry on, his suspenders will be pushed from his shoulders and forgotten with one last mournful look, and that’s not at all part of his plans. So he takes over instead, expertly working open the buttons running down his chest and untucking his shirt, letting his suspenders hang down around his thighs only long enough for him to drop his shirt to the floor. They’re back up on him in an instant, settled firmly into place where Steve plans for them to stay for the rest of this little rendez-vous.

But Bucky’s too busy working on the button on Steve’s pants--taking the one job Steve decided to leave for him very seriously. The button comes undone easily, almost as easily as how quickly the zipper gets pulled down, and then Bucky’s finally hooking his fingers in the waistband of the pants and pulling them down until they pool around Steve’s ankles. He crouches to help Steve step out of them, nothing in the world being able to stop him from finishing his task--that is, until Bucky comes face to face with something that makes his breath catch and his movements still.

Because...those aren’t Steve’s normal boxers…

Bucky blinks, eyes grazing over the soft black fabric clinging to Steve’s hips.

And Steve can tell just from the subtle widening of Bucky’s eyes that he’s finally noticed the shorts, can tell from the lack of expletives that he hasn’t yet noticed _everything…_ So he runs his thumbs up under the straps on his chest, releases them to make a firm snap against his skin. And that, _that_ has Bucky finally looking up.

It’s like Bucky’s brain has shut down completely, took one look at Steve and those shorts that are definitely a little see through and now he realizes…Steve’s still got his suspenders on.

_Steve’s still got his suspenders on._

Bucky’s heart leaps in his chest, eyes dragging over the two clips that hold the straps firmly against Steve’s shorts. They’re… Are they…

“Are you…” Bucky starts, pushing past the way his voice already sounds so wrecked. “Are you fucking with me right now?” Because holy shit, if this is a joke...

“Don’t think I would’ve risked ordering these stupid underwear for a prank, Buck.” Steve whispers lowly, pushing both of his hands through Bucky’s hair and trying not to start fidgeting as nerves creep back in. Because he’s _doing this._ He’s doing this and it’s going to be amazing even if it is just a bit out of his element.

Bucky blanks for a second, mentally can’t deal with the fact that this is happening, because he doesn’t even know how long this has been merely a thought in his head.

He leans forward, one hand resting on Steve’s hip as he presses his mouth just above the bulge in Steve’s shorts, then higher at the waistline, then higher still until he’s leaving all of these open-mouthed kisses on Steve’s stomach and chest and holy shit, this is happening.

Steve just keeps his hands anchored in Bucky’s hair, holding on and letting Bucky take a few minutes to just drink it all in. Because Steve knows he looks incredible. (And not because he’s arrogant or vain, but because he’s put _hours_ into planning so that this moment could truly be everything Bucky’s ever wanted.) The suspenders are Y shaped and deep blue, dark enough to contrast with his pale skin that Bucky likes to mark so much, but still vibrant in a way that makes his eyes- one of Bucky’s favorite things about him -stand out.

The shorts had been a bit trickier to figure out. Steve did not, after all, have any experience with purchasing materials of the _private_ kind. Bucky would always buy lube during his semi-frequent trips outside of town and quite frankly Steve hadn’t even bothered to think about where he’d been buying it from, whether it was a pharmacy store or a gas station or --as he’s recently found out exist- a specialty store. But this hadn’t been a search for something as simple or mundane as lube, it had been a thousand times more scarring. (Steve had made the mistake of simply typing ‘how to wear suspenders during sex’ into the search box.) He had made it though, made it through the horrors of an online ‘love shop’ to the online checkout, managed to pick up the parcel before anyone else could see.

And so now here he is, standing in front of Bucky in a pair of thin black shorts, made that much more interesting by the tiny chevron pattern that covers their surface, alternating between a thin see through mesh and a slightly darker one. But the real piece de resistance is the slit in the back, an opening that will allow the shorts, and therefore the suspenders, to stay on for the entire duration of their activities. And Steve would be a liar if he said he wasn’t proud as all get out that he figured out how to do this all by himself, that’s he’s able to give Bucky this moment.

By now, Bucky knows _exactly_ what the fuck is going on--knows _exactly_ how ridiculously attractive Steve is, standing there in all his glory.

Bucky can’t help but lean forward again, on his knees in front of Steve as he tucks his fingers under one of the suspenders straps and moves it over, revealing a perfect spot to mark on Steve’s hip. He drags his teeth over the pale skin, using just enough pressure to leave it red as he trails his tongue over the spot and lets the strap snap back against it. Steve stumbles back a bit from the impact, but Bucky grabs both of the straps to tug him closer before moving on to the other hip, leaving an even more impressive shade of red in his wake.

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters against Steve’s skin, grazing his teeth over the jut of his hip bone.

And Steve jerks into the touch, biting back a whine and tightening his fingers in Bucky’s hair. He doesn’t know if he wants to pull Bucky closer or push him away but he does know that Bucky’s mouth looks fantastic and- “Buck, please.” He whispers. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, not really, but he figures that’s okay, figures Bucky will come up with something.

Bucky’s hands are already on his belt, fumbling to undo it with a metallic clatter while still having his mouth on Steve because every moment he’s not tasting his skin is a fucking perfect moment lost. The pants and boxers finally come off after a certain amount of difficulty (they’re thrown across the barn floor because he maybe gets a little excited) and then the shirt follows, forcing Bucky to lean back in order to get the fabric over his head and then down beneath his knees before pressing forward again.

And Steve is more than okay with the direction Bucky has taken, running his hands all over Bucky’s bare shoulders, dark and slightly freckled from the sun. He never has gotten quite used to the sight of Bucky’s naked body, how warm and perfect it is, how well it fits with his own. The contrast of their skin tones, the height difference, and the glaring distance between their statures...but somehow they’re perfect together. And Bucky is _his._ Steve’s the one who gets to run his hands down to Bucky’s chest and feel his heart beat strong beneath his palms. Steve’s the one who can spread his legs and sink down to straddle Bucky’s thighs, wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and sigh into his ear. “ _Buck,_ ” he breaths, letting out a cut off moan when Bucky’s hands slide down his back, fingers splaying over and squeezing at the skin beneath Steve’s shorts.

He turns his head and bites down on the column of Bucky’s neck, slicking over the area once with his tongue as apology before moving to his jaw, rubbing his cheek over the stubble there before drawing back to look Bucky in the eyes. “ _Buck,”_ he says again. “Want you. Want you so bad.”

Bucky groans, rocking up against Steve in his lap but not getting nearly enough friction as he needs. “We need…” he bites down, “...can’t without…” _We need fucking lube_ is what his brain is shouting at him, but his mouth refuses to cooperate, instead hanging open unhelpfully as he rocks up against Steve again. “Fuck…”

But Steve just, just fucking does this little breathy, condescending laugh above him before reaching back to cover one of Bucky’s hands with his own, guides Bucky’s fingers down into the slit of his shorts, then simply says, “ _I know.”_ And holy fucking shit Steve is already _wet_ down there.

Steve doesn’t give Bucky time to process this new revelation, however, just lifts himself slightly and bats Bucky’s hands away from his ass, spreads his thighs just a tad wider then… “ _Oh fuck,”_ Steve groans, head tipping back as he lines Bucky up at his entrance and just slides him home, sinking back down into Bucky’s lap to pant heavily into his shoulder. His hips give a little twitch of interest at the sudden fullness but he still needs a moment to adjust. To get his bearings back again, because this is real, this is happening, and that is most definitely Bucky swearing up a storm above him in surprise.

Because Bucky...holy _fuck_ Bucky has died and gone straight to fucking heaven, eyes squeezing shut as he grabs at any and every part of Steve that he can get his hands on. Because he planned this. Steve fucking _planned_ this shit--came in here with one intention and Jesus Christ, if Bucky knew that _this_ was what it was going to be, he would have stopped dicking around a lot sooner. He doesn’t even want to think about Steve’s walk over here to meet him, what it must have been like to just stroll through town, stretched and slicked up and fucking ready to go. _Fuck_.

Finally adjusted to the feeling of Bucky inside him, stretching him out so well the way he always has, Steve takes a moment to just sit there and take it in. The look on Bucky’s face, how he’s managed to mix shock and arousal into something closely resembling a gaping fish, the way Bucky’s hands are grasping at him like Steve might somehow disappear like some kind of dream. And yeah, Steve’s not gonna be shy about admitting to the fact that he feels smug as shit right now, perched on Bucky’s lap and in complete control of the show.

He lifts his hips and slams them back down again just to prove that point, pulling a broken groan out of Bucky before doing it again, setting up a slow rhythm of up and down and stop and _grind_ that has Bucky gasping beneath him. Smirking, he reaches back and guides both of Bucky’s hands from his sides to his shoulder blades, where the Y of the strap forms and arcs up over his shoulders. “Might wanna hold on, Buck,” he says, murmured just above the curve of Bucky’s ear. He nips at Bucky’s earlobe then presses a kiss to the side of his face, the point of his cheekbone, before finally landing at his mouth and sucking at his lower lip.

Bucky lets it happen--lets Steve bring his lip in between his teeth, lets it all fucking happen because his body is on fire and Steve is so pretty above him and he just cants his hips up, eagerly meeting Steve’s thrusts halfway as he grabs at the straps of those suspenders and holds on for dear life.

Because Steve may not be the strongest guy in the world, but he sure knows how to ride Bucky like a fucking pro--so well that Bucky can’t get any words out, just kind of stumbles over broken phrases and moans and zeros in on Steve grinding on top of him. “So fucking--...” he _does_ manage to get out, but that’s it. And Steve’s smirking at him so Bucky pulls him in by the straps and crashes their lips together.

Bucky’s mouth is something Steve will never get tired of. It’s impossible. The way his lips get all red and he gets so into everything, using his tongue and _teeth_ to drive Steve insane. And shit, Steve never knew biting could be something he was into but Bucky quickly showed him the path to the light. Which is why now, as Bucky takes Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and bites down, Steve knows not to jerk away, but just melts into Bucky’s chest and _moans_ like one of those cheap films Bucky’s shown him online. His rhythm falters slightly and Bucky seems to notice the hitch, chuckling darkly into his open lips before ducking down to latch his mouth just beneath Steve’s jaw. Teeth sink into skin and Steve’s whole body jerks without his permission, forcing a sound from his throat that he didn’t even know he was capable of making. But apparently all it took was five years of suppressed suspender-related sexual tension and Bucky creating a hickey the size of a quarter on his neck to produce it.

“Buck,” he pants. “Oh shit, Buck, I-”

Bucky smirks against Steve’s skin, loving every broken noise that falls from his mouth. He licks over the reddened skin and then sits forward, both hands coming around to hold Steve to his chest as he brings his own legs up and then tilts forward, his body shadowing over Steve’s as he lowers him down onto the sheet that’s spread conveniently across a pile of hay pushed up against the wall.

He doesn’t ask how it got there. Not right now. Because right now, all he cares about is throwing Steve’s legs over his shoulders and driving deep inside him, the strangled noise that slips from Steve’s lips doing nothing but encouraging Bucky to snap his hips forward quicker.

Steve scrambles to find purchase on Bucky’s back at the sudden change in pace, blunt nails raking over the skin there and getting a hiss from Bucky’s lips. A near constant groan is coming from his own mouth, punctuated with little staccato breaths from when Bucky thrusts forward, forcing air from his lungs and coherent thought from his mind. And why in the world hadn’t he done this sooner?

Bucky steadies himself with one hand on Steve’s hip, pressing him into the sheet as the other hand tangles itself in a strap of the suspenders like he never plans on letting go. But then an idea pops into his head, and he stares down at the way Steve’s suspenders are framing his chest, just skimming the edges of his nipples. A smirk curls his lips and he bends down to press a sloppy kiss to Steve’s mouth. Because Steve’s _always_ had sensitive nipples... 

He slides a hand underneath one of the straps, rubbing his palm over the little bud there and digging in with the heel of his hand, starting up a continuous motion of push and pull. Steve freezes under him then suddenly his back is arching up, pushing his chest into Bucky’s hand as a strangled noise falls against Bucky’s lips. “That’s it, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, “I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you just like I said.”

Steve keens at that, toes curling and thighs shaking because he wants to _move,_ to do _something_ to release all the energy and heat boiling up inside him. But there’s not much he can do besides clench one fist into the sheet and another into Bucky’s hair, pant obscenely into Bucky’s mouth and just hold on for the ride. Bucky’s tongue licks past his lips and he groans around it, eyes squinting shut at the sudden wave of Bucky-Heat- _Fuck_ that’s washing over him.

He’s so close he can feel it, the raging fire reaching the edge of the abyss, waiting for the final thrill of the drop before the calm. But he’s still got enough of a mind to know that he wants Bucky there too, needs him there to go over with him.

So he forces his eyes open, looks up at Bucky with everything that he wants to say but can’t, and Bucky gives one last kiss to Steve’s slack lips before leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, Steve,” he mumbles, “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky’s been with Steve long enough to understand what he wants, knows that Steve came here with the sole mission of getting Bucky off on one of his most special fantasies, and if he were to come before Bucky...he’d never let himself live it down. Which is not something Bucky agrees with, but acknowledges nonetheless.

And it’s not hard, really, to get himself to that point as well, to join Steve on the edge. All it takes is him leaning down further, folding Steve nearly in half as their hips move together in a frantic pace. He can feel Steve’s suspenders rubbing between their chests and Steve’s muscles clenching around him and then he’s gone, tipping over the edge with Steve following close behind with a last shout of his name.

Bucky’s entire body tenses- including his hold on Steve- as the waves of satisfaction roll through him. They’re loud and they’re hot and they’re sweaty and Bucky wouldn’t trade this moment for fucking anything.

When enough time has passed for Bucky to start moving again, he pulls back, figuring Steve doesn’t need to be bent almost in half anymore. But he settles down next to him on the sheet, wasting no time to wrap his arms around Steve’s smaller frame and pull him close.

The reality of the entire situation slowly sinks in now that the proper amount of blood is returning to his brain. “You punk…” Bucky shakes his head, but can’t hide the smile that’s born from knowing how much preparation went into what just happened. Or, maybe he still doesn’t. “How long were you planning on doing this?”

And Steve is still kind of floating, that familiar, soothing burn between his legs making his eyes a bit droopy. But he has enough energy for this conversation. Definitely. Just has to figure out how to get his mouth to work again. “Since maybe before Brooklyn,” he finally mumbles. “But definitely during and after.”

Bucky watches him- the way Steve kind of slumps against him like he usually does- and then just smiles. Five years. Five years he’d been pining away at the thought of suspenders sex. And Steve had answered his prayers. “Okay well...you’re the fucking best.”

“I know,” Steve smiles, humming contentedly into the skin of Bucky’s chest. There’s sweat and cum drying between them (a fair majority of it in his now ruined shorts) but he just can’t find it in himself to care. Not when Bucky is so warm. And if Bucky’s out of questions he really would like to sleep now.

But… “How’d this sheet even get in here? Was that you too?”

“Mhmm, was me.” Steve says, shifting a bit so his head is more comfortably propped up against Bucky’s chest. He frowns a bit as a memory skirts his mind then goes, “Oh yeah... key. Need to give that back.”

And that...that does not compute. “Key?” Bucky stares down at Steve, eyebrows drawing together in a lazy attempt to concentrate. “You…” Oh. _Oh._ “Steve, did you ask this guy if we could fuck in his barn?”

Steve lets out a breathy giggle. “Mr. Collins sends his blessings?”

...Bucky blinks. And then blinks again. And then blinks one more time to stall, just in case Steve is going to tack on some sort of _haha, just kidding_. But it’s not coming. Bucky sits up, has to _look_ at Steve’s fucking face when he asks it. “You’re--...Steve, are you fucking kidding me?”

And Bucky is above him again, looking down with this horrified expression on his face, and all Steve can think to do is laugh again and put hands on Bucky’s chest and say, “Wanted it to be here.” Because he did. And Mr. Collins didn’t mind so what was the problem? _He_ was the one who had to do the asking, anyway. What’s Bucky complaining for?

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky carries on, “How the hell am I supposed to go out there and look him in the eye and tell him that his window is fine? How am I supposed to talk to him after fucking all over his hay?” He has about fifty more questions at the helm, but he decides right now, the most important is: “How are you so fucking calm about this?”

And Steve just looks right up at him and says, “Because I’d do anything for you.” Like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. (Because it is. Why else would Steve go through the shame of broadcasting his sex life? --The answer is he wouldn’t.)

And Bucky must somehow get that through his thick skull, because he’s staring at Steve for one more moment before his face softens, acceptance sinking in. He shifts against Steve before pulling him in closer and mumbling, “Fucking punk.” It’s his way of saying thank you for now, while he’s still reeling from the embarrassment. But he does manage to also begrudgingly mumble, “Love you.”

And Steve smiles into his chest, says, “I love you too, you jerk” and Bucky can feel the curve of his lips right above his heart. --And he supposes that’s really what matters, that Steve’s found happiness in all of this, even if it was for his sake to begin with.

 

\---+---

**Author's Note:**

> as always, we are on tumblr: [whatthebodygraspsnot](whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com) * [itsmylifekay](itsmylifekay.tumblr.com)


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